Torn Expectations
by selenehekate
Summary: Running late and with a hole in her robes, who else can be her spur-of-the-moment seamstress but Severus Snape?


_Torn Expectations _

Hermione Granger was _not_ having a good day. No matter how hard she tried, it seemed that everything that could go wrong, _did_ go wrong. From burning her tongue on her morning tea, to accidentally over-conditioning her hair to the point of excessive frizz, with everything Hermione did on that cold Wednesday morning, it seemed she was doomed to fail.

This irritated her to no end. Apart from the fact that Hermione was a natural-born perfectionist and therefore hated failure, that Wednesday was a rather big day for her, and she loathed the idea that so many things could go wrong so quickly. For on that cold Wednesday - September first, 2006 - Hermione Granger was due to start teaching at Hogwarts.

She was already a little terrified; Charms was a difficult subject, and though she was confident that she understood this branch of magic backwards and forwards she still couldn't help but feel nervous. What if she didn't like the children? What if the children didn't like _her_? What if the children didn't _listen_ to her? What if she got sacked because of that? The list of her mental worries went on and on...

Which was why all of the mishaps that plagued her hours before her career as a Charms professor officially began were particularly irritating. No matter what she did, it appeared that nothing could go right, nothing at all.

The latest mishap? Ten minutes before the welcoming feast was due to start, as Hermione was climbing the stairs that led from the teachers entrance to the Great Hall, she stepped on the hem of her robes and tore them.

"Bloody... Ah, Merlin's pants!" she growled as she plopped herself down on the bottom step of the staircase. She examined the rip in her robes. Oh, sure, she'd be able to mend it. But the tear was so long that she wasn't sure she'd be able to mend it in time for the feast... "Great," she muttered. "I feel like Neville."

"Not at all, Miss Granger," a voice from behind her said. She turned her head, coming to stare at Severus Snape. "Unlike you, Longbottom would have also tumbled down the stairs."

"Severus," she greeted with a small smile. It still felt odd to her to not address him as 'Professor,' but Minerva had commanded that as a fellow professor, she be given the right to call her colleagues by their given names. "I'm sorry. Did I disturb you?"

"You yelled loudly enough, Miss Granger, to wake half of Scotland," he said with a roll of his eyes. He slowly began to descend the stairs towards her. "Kindly refrain from using such phrases once the students arrive."

"Of course," she said, a light blush rising to her cheeks. "Forgive me. I was caught off guard."

"Yes, I imagine so," he said as he stared down at the large rip in her robes. "One generally does not mean to lacerate their clothing whilst they climb the stairs."

She sighed. "I suppose I should go back to my quarters and change. I'll never get this mended in time for the feast."

"Not alone, perhaps," Severus said simply as he pulled out his wand.

"Oh... I... Y-you don't have to-" she stammered.

"Nonsense," he said with a slight glare as he gripped the fabric in his hands and began to weave a binding spell through the fabric. "I'll not have you attending the feast late or looking as though you're homeless. That's a terrible - and rather lasting - reputation for this school to have. We've only just managed to shake it off from the previous time Lupin was here."

Hermione couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. "That was thirteen years ago."

"Indeed it was," Severus said, glancing up at her quickly. "You know, this would go significantly faster if you would actually contribute instead of sitting there with your mouth hanging open like a daft first year."

Quickly, she pulled out her wand and began to copy his movements from the other end, weaving the fabric together. They had started on opposite sides of the tear, and they were slowly coming closer and closer together, preparing to meet in the middle...

"You know," Severus said after a slight moments' pause, "you might want to consider not buying cheap robes next time. It's no wonder these tore at the slightest bit of provocation. They're horribly made."

She scowled. "Oh, you're one to talk. All you seem to have in your wardrobe is _black_." She blinked and froze as she suddenly remembered who she was talking to. "Uh, Professor."

His lips quirked up for a fraction of a second before he spoke once more. "Didn't Minerva insist that you call us all by our first names? Unless, of course, you're in the presence of a student."

"She did."

"Am I too intimidating for you to follow such a mandate?" he asked, his eyes dangerously narrow as he continued to weave her robes back together.

"At times," she admitted. A smirk began to work at the corners of his lips, but it faded at her next words. "Though to be honest, sometimes I don't call you by your given name because you don't call me by mine."

He looked up at her sharply, his black eyes staring intently into her own. "Sometimes a habit is hard to break," he said slowly.

"To be sure."

Silence wove its way around the two of them, just as the magical thread that was rebinding her robes together wove its way through the fabric. They said nothing for the next minute, and just watched and slowly skimmed their wands right above the tear, guiding the thread to efficiently close up that gaping hole. They made a lot of progress, drawing closer and closer towards the middle of the hole, shrinking the damage and pulling tighter until...

Their respective magical threads finally touched, and a spark shot clear through Hermione's body.

Her eyes widened as Severus looked up sharply, his eyes magnetically locking on hers. They stared at one another for a moment, side by side on the steps that led to the Great Hall, to the feast...

The feast! Hermione jumped to her feet at the same time that Severus did, both of them suddenly remembering the reason he'd needed to assist her in mending the robes to begin with. "We should probably-"

"Indeed," he murmured, his voice taking on a low tone. The two of them were so close together, practically touching in the stairwell. She could feel his breath on her cheek, see his pulse beating quickly in his neck... She wondered what his heartbeat would feel like under her hand.

He stepped back and gestured towards the top of the stairs. "After you, Hermione."

As she hurried past him, Hermione was surprised to see a fair bit of heat in his eyes. She was even more surprised that he'd called her by her given name.

* * *

_I really love this pairing... This was written for the Hogwarts Games: Running and the OTP Boot Camp. Please review it and tell me what you think! I'd love some criticism. Thanks!_

_Cheers!_

_-Selene_


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